


My Boyfriend's Back

by TheOnlyCeeCeeJ



Series: The Dreamboats and Petticoats Series [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternative Universe - Mafia, Beating, Dark Peter Parker, Established Relationship, Everyone Works for Beck, Exhibitionism, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Gun play, Hybristophilia, Kept Boy Peter Parker, M/M, Mob Boss Quentin Beck, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker likes to watch, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Skip is a lying asshole, Spoiled Peter Parker, Torture, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27332788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyCeeCeeJ/pseuds/TheOnlyCeeCeeJ
Summary: My boyfriend's back he's gonna save my reputation(Hey-la-day-la my boyfriend's back)If I were you I'd take a permanent vacation(Hey-la, hey-la, my boyfriend's back)Peter Parker is very well looked after. Drivers, bodyguards, expensive clothing, everything he could ever dream of. If Peter wanted it, Peter got it.Skip Westcott wants Peter. He doesn't care that Peter is spoken for, and he is willing to do anything to make sure Peter is his - That was his biggest mistake.Peter Parker's boyfriend is a dangerous man, and he doesn't like when people touch his things. But he did like to teach people lessons.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Series: The Dreamboats and Petticoats Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865101
Comments: 14
Kudos: 95





	My Boyfriend's Back

**Author's Note:**

> I have been writing this for AGES, and am so glad that I can finally share it! This is now part three of my Dreamboats & Petticoats series. Basically, I was listening to one of the Dreamboats & Petticoats albums and my brain went WILD with self-indulgent fic ideas! 
> 
> This one comes after listening to My Boyfriend's Back by the Angels. 
> 
> Huge thank you to my beautiful beta! Love you bbz, you're an ANGEL!

The nightclub was dark, intermittently lit by the flashing lights. The air was hot and heavy, the patrons huddled together in booths, fighting to get to the bar or crammed on the dance floor like sardines. Horny, drunk, sweaty sardines. In the middle of the writhing bodies was Peter Parker, dancing with himself. 

Clad in a black mesh crop top and pants so tight they may as well have been painted on, Peter swayed to the music, eyes closed, hips grinding the air perfectly with the music. Sweat dripped from his body. His hair had fallen out of the perfectly coiffed style he left the house with, curls dropping in front of his eyes. 

Whilst he was crammed in with hundreds of people, everyone around him was more focused on their own or their partners’ dancing, just the way Peter liked it. That was, until a pair of hands found their way into Peter’s slim hips. Peter’s eyes shot open as he felt a hard body press against his back, attempting to follow his rhythm.

Peter stopped and turned around to dislodge himself from the person. He scowled when he realized who it was.

“What do you want, Skip?” he asked, folding his arms.

“I just want a dance with you, gorgeous. You looked so lonely, I thought I’d give you company,” Skip replied, stepping forward and grabbing hold of Peter again. 

“I think you’ll find I was perfectly happy by myself,” Peter said, gripping Skip’s wrists and trying to get him off, but Skip held strong.

“Don’t lie to me, Peter.” Skip pulled Peter closer and tried to coax him into moving. “I know you want me.”

Peter looked over Skip’s shoulder and shook his head slightly before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. “Ok, and how do you know that?”

Skip let his hands travel up Peter’s sides. “I can just feel it.”

Peter laughed. “Ohhhh and the thirty times I’ve said ‘no’ to you didn’t tell you I’m definitely not interested?”

“You’re just playing hard-to-get, beautiful.”

“You’re delusional, Skip. Seriously. You know I have a boyfriend, whom I am immensely happy with.”

Skip lifted his hand and flicked the tag that hung from Peter’s collar with a smirk. “Oh yeah,  _ him _ . So,” Skip stepped back and looked around, “where is he tonight?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s out of town meeting some new clients.”

Skip reached forward and laced his fingers in Peter’s hair and leaned forward, his breath lingering on Peter’s sweat drenched skin. “And he left you all alone? He  _ must _ love you.” Skip let his other hand trail around to Peter’s ass. “Why don’t you come back to my place and I’ll show you how a real man can treat you.”

Peter gathered up all of his strength and pushed Skip away. “Don’t make me vomit. Even if I was single and desperate for cock, you wouldn’t be my choice. Ever. Just fuck off, Skip.”

“I know you don’t believe that,” Skip said, reaching for Peter again. 

Peter slapped Skip’s hand away. “Give up and leave me alone, Skip, if you know what’s good for you.” 

Peter turned to walk away but Skip grabbed his wrist tight. “Are you threatening me?”

Peter punched Skip as hard as he could, dropping the man to the floor. Peter leaned over Skip with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Possibly. But it’s not me you should be afraid of.”

With that, Peter stood and weaved his way through the crowd, leaving a seething Skip on the sticky floor. Peter headed up the small stairs and past the velvet rope to his booth, where his friends Ned, Harry, Gwen and MJ were sitting. Peter flopped down between Gwen and MJ and sighed. He poured himself a drink, downed it in one and poured himself another. 

From behind him, a towel filled with ice was passed over. Peter muttered a thanks and placed it on his fist, groaning as the cold seeped into his knuckles. The man behind him leaned on the back of the booth and looked down at Peter. 

“You alright, kid?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m alright, Steve. You know how he is. I can handle myself.”

Steve chuckled and clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I know you can, Pete. Bucky over there, however, was half way down to the dancefloor to rip his head off.”

Peter laughed. “That sounds about right,” he said to Steve. He then looked over to where Bucky was stood, looming over the entrance to their booth. “Sorry Bucky!” Peter called out, looking as innocent as he possibly could. 

Bucky looked at Peter and raised an eyebrow. His stoic face cracked a small smile as he shook his head and turned his attention back to scoping out the crowd. He never rested, always on the clock. Peter joined his friends’ conversation, laughing and apparently brushing over what had just happened. Steve, however, had other plans as he tapped Peter on the shoulder. 

“You do know you have to tell him about what happened tonight,” he said flatly. 

Peter sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’ll call him in the morning, ok? You know he hates when I wake him up and I’m drunk.” 

Steve nodded. “I know. Just make sure you do.”

“Don’t I always do what I’m told?” Peter said, batting his eyelashes.

Steve shoved Peter’s shoulder. “Can it, kid. Now let me get back to work, it’s hard work babysitting you.”

“Ohhhh, you love me really, Stevie,” Peter grinned. 

Steve just gave Peter a swat to the back of his head and walked off to join Bucky in front of the booth. The rest of the night continued uninterrupted, with a lot more drinks, a lot more dancing and Peter being carried out by Bucky, screeching Whitney Houston to Gwen, who happened to be in Steve’s arms after she broke her heel.

When Peter woke up the next day, he had one hell of a hangover - of course. He rolled over in the huge Alaska king bed and the movement made him realize that he was still dressed in his clothes from the night before. Peter sighed and reached for his phone which was placed neatly, on charge, on the nightstand. Steve must have put it there, because Peter hadn’t been in any state to do that himself. If he had, he’d be impressed.

Peter looked at the screen and noticed that he had a lot of messages from his friends about their night. He scrolled past some thumbnails of pictures and videos that he knew he really wouldn’t want to see until he saw the message that he was looking for.

**Daddy:** Morning, sweetheart, hope last night wasn’t too wild. Call me when you wake up.

Peter smiled as he unlocked his phone and dialed. 

_ “So, how’s the head?” _

“Haven’t had any complaints,” Peter croaked, instantly wishing that Steve had left out some water for him. 

_ “Ohh, baby, you sound awful.” _

“I feel it, too. I am never drinking again.”

The man chuckled.  _ “Of course you’re not. That’ll last until next weekend.” _

Peter groaned. “It’s too early for you to be always right.” Peter sighed, knowing what he had to do. “So, I have something I need to tell you about last night.”

_ “Hmmmm… Go on.” _

“So, Skip came on to me last night.”

_ “Again?” _

“I turned him down, I promise,” Peter cut in. 

_ “I believe you. Look, baby, do you need me to take care of him?”  _

“No,” Peter said instantly, before thinking about it properly. “Not yet, ok? He’s harmless, really.”

_ “He’s putting his hands on what’s mine. He needs to be dealt with,”  _ he growled.

“Please. I’m hoping my fist knocking him on his ass will be enough to get the point across,” Peter chuckled.

_ “You punched him? Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you.” _

“Good. Now, can I go back to sleep? I only got in a few hours ago and I feel like death warmed up.”

_ “Good boy. Go back to sleep, call me later.” _

With the incident passed, Peter continued on with his life as it always was. Steve drove him to college, he went to class, studied with his friends or his study group, with Steve or Bucky picking him up from wherever he was. Though, a few days later, things got strange. It started when he noticed people were looking at him differently. Once he had noticed that, he realized that people around the college were whispering in groups and looking at him. Some even had the audacity to point over at him and talk with their friends. 

At first, it didn’t really bother Peter. He was pretty used to people looking at him and judging, considering who he was dating, but this time it was just ridiculous. It even managed to spread throughout certain parts of the city. Acquaintances of his boyfriend all of a sudden started to turn their noses up at him and he had no clue why. 

When it all got too much, Peter met with Tony, a business associate of his boyfriend’s. If you needed to find out anything about anyone, Tony was your man. He had his ways of hacking into anything and everything undetected. He could remove or plant whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted. 

“Hey, kid. What was it you needed?” Tony asked, turning away from his computer screens, gesturing for Peter to take a seat. “I’m not used to seeing you on your own.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Tony, but I needed your help. Something strange has happened recently and I have no idea why.”

Tony leaned forward with a strange grin. “I do love a challenge,” he said, turning back to his computer. “Start from the beginning and I’ll work my magic.”

Peter told Tony about everything that had happened recently while the older man typed away on his keyboard. Peter was about to leave Tony to it when windows started popping up on the screens. There were tons of messages and several photos that Peter definitely didn’t like. 

There on the screen were photos of him and Skip in the nightclub the previous weekend. Skip’s hands were all over Peter and every photo didn’t convey the distaste that Peter had been feeling at the time. They all looked as though Peter was enjoying himself. It made it look like Peter was cheating. Peter sighed as he looked over and read the messages. 

The photos had been sent around to everyone at college, specifically telling the receiver that they had to ensure neither Peter or his friends saw the photo. The kids and partners of some of Peter’s boyfriend’s associates attended the same college as Peter and that was how it had spread through them. 

Peter was livid. 

He quickly thanked Tony, who was already erasing the photos from any and every device he could find it on. That was all well and good, but people had already seen it, the things had already been said. Peter’s reputation was getting ripped to shreds. 

Peter dropped into the backseat of the car and sat there stewing on the entire journey home. Steve tried to make conversation but only received one word answers. After a couple of attempts, he gave up, knowing that he was best to leave Peter to it; there was only one person who could calm him down, and he was over 2000 miles away. 

Peter stormed through the apartment and flopped onto the bed, pulling his phone out and dialing. The phone barely rang before Peter heard his voice. 

_ “I wondered when I’d hear from you today.” _

Peter sighed, recognising the tone in his boyfriend’s voice. “I guess you’ve seen then.”

_ “I have. Care to explain?” _

“I’ve already told you what happened, you have to believe me. The asshole obviously didn’t like the rejection or the fact that he got taken down by me. He decided he would try to ruin me. Ruin us. I’ve only just found out about it all.”

_ “I believe you, baby, ok? Look, I’m coming home early, this needs to be dealt with.” _

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered. 

_ “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. I can fix this. I’ll be there when you wake up, ok?” _

“I best sleep naked, then.” Peter grinned when he heard his boyfriend growl. “I love you, babe.”

_ “I love you, too.” _

Peter hung up the phone and sat up, grinning as an idea hit him. He left his room and headed straight for the living room, finding Steve and Bucky on the sofa. Peter strode across the room, not stopping as he called out to them.

“We’re going out.” 

Steve and Bucky looked at each other and rolled their eyes, getting up to follow Peter out to the car. When they got there, Peter was already sitting in the backseat on the phone.

“...ok, just tell me you can find him… I know it won’t be long… Ok... You’re sure? Thanks, Tony.”

Peter placed his phone in his lap as it beeped. He looked down and smiled, looking towards the two men in the front seat. 

“I need your help with something,” he said to the men. “Nothing too much, I just need some muscle,” he grinned. 

Bucky and Steve looked to each other with a questioning look in their eyes. It wasn’t often that Peter got like this, but he had his moments. It was usually when something bad happened that Peter switched from that happy, twinky little college kid to this… The only way they could describe him would be twisted.

Steve started up the car while Bucky turned in his seat. “So, Queens, what do you need us to do?”

Peter looked at his phone and nodded before replying. “We’re going to be paying a certain someone a visit. He’s in Brooklyn at the moment; Tony programed the GPS, I’ll tell you everything on the way.”

“You heard the kid, Stevie. Let’s go.”

Skip walked down the street with a little bounce in his step. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. Sure, he may have been rejected again, but he was sure that Peter would be single pretty soon. The slut would come crawling to him when he realized that no one else wanted him. 

He sipped his coffee as he walked past the brownstones, heading home after his shift at work. As he walked past one of the houses, he saw that someone was sitting on the steps. He kept his eyes on his coffee, keeping himself to himself, but as he passed, he felt eyes on his back.

“Hey man, got a light?” the man asked. 

“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” he replied, continuing on his way. 

Then it all happened so fast. He felt a vice-like grip on the back of his neck and he was being pulled down some stairs to a strange basement apartment. He was pushed through the door and staggered into another huge wall of man. He didn’t even have a chance to look at his attackers as they dragged him through the room and threw him against the wall, his head hitting the brick with a crack. 

As his vision flashed back, he looked to the men who were holding him up against the wall. He recognised them instantly. He tried to fight against their hold, but it was useless. He could hear footsteps coming down the hall and at first, he was a bit fearful, but that changed when he realized exactly who was holding him here.

“Hi, Skip.”

“Peter,” he replied with a nod. “Is this how it is now? If you wanted me, you could’ve just called. No need to have tweedle dumb and tweedle dickhead here,” he said with a smirk, which instantly dropped as he felt Bucky’s hand tighten around his throat in warning.

“Look, Skip, I know what you’re trying and it’s not gonna work.”

“Oh, yeah? So what’s your boyfriend think of your cheating ass?” 

“Now that you mention it, he loves my ass,” Peter smiled.

“For how much longer? He won’t want a little slut like you who gives it out to anyone who asks.”

“We both know that isn’t true. Actually, we  _ all _ know that isn’t true. My boyfriend is coming back, and you’re gonna be in trouble.”

Skip barked out a laugh. “You think I’m scared of him?”

“If you were smart, you would be. But it’s obvious that you’re not. What made you think he’d believe all your lies?” 

Skip kept his apparent confidence as he smirked. “Look at you, Petey, you dress like you’re asking for it. If it’s not me, you’re definitely giving it to someone else – I know a slut like you can’t keep it in his pants. Maybe one of these two goons, huh? Or both? Do you let them drill you while he’s gone?” 

Bucky growled and pulled Skip forward, slamming him back against the wall hard; they were sure there was a crack of bone. Peter looked to Bucky and sighed, looking disappointed, to which Bucky just shrugged. Steve snorted a little; he always enjoyed it when Bucky got like this, but it was more hilarious to watch him bow to the kid.

“You really have got a big mouth on you, Skip. Let’s see how long that lasts.” Peter walked up close to Skip and looked up at him with a pitying look on his face. “You’re a big man now, but he’ll cut you down to size.”

Skip laughed again. “Sure he will, sweetie.”

Peter nodded and took a few steps back. “Oh, he will. I mean, look at you,” Peter gestured to Skip with a sneer. “You’re not much, are you? You’re gonna be sorry you were ever born.” 

“Oh, fuck off, Pete. What is this, some attempt to scare me? Because it’s not working.”

Peter chuckled. “Oh, I’m not doing the scaring, Skip. Really, I’m being a good person. I’m giving you a warning.” Peter stepped forward and patted Skip on the shoulder. "He knows that you've been trying it on me, and that made him mad. I told him to leave you alone because I'm nice like that. But then you spread lies about me. That didn't just affect me, did it? No, you went after him too. So now he's really angry." 

Peter stepped back and motioned for Bucky and Steve to let Skip go. The men dropped their hands but remained in their positions either side of the man. "I'd say you probably have a day left… If I were you, I'd take a permanent vacation." 

Peter turned and headed to the door, followed by Steve. Bucky had other plans as he turned and landed a huge punch to Skip's gut. The man doubled over, and spluttered on the floor. 

Peter turned and raised an eyebrow. "Really, Bucky?"

Bucky just shrugged. "What? The punk deserved it."

Peter shook his head and left the room, followed by his guard, leaving Skip rolling around the floor, trying to catch his breath. When he could finally get up, he walked out of the apartment, chuckling to himself. Peter was acting so hilariously. All he had done was send a few photos out and tell a few lies, and Peter was acting like that was a feat punishable by death. It was laughable. 

Skip made his way home and continued his afternoon and evening as usual. He chilled out, watched TV, ate dinner, had a few beers and went to sleep without a worry in the world. When he woke up, the previous day was completely forgotten. He headed to work and sat at his desk, performing his monotonous duties at his job for hours until he could finally clock out. 

It was one of his colleagues’ birthdays, so they had planned to go to a bar for a few drinks, which was welcomed by Skip. Any excuse to have a drink was welcomed. The bar was packed with other people who were desperate for the after work drink, but luckily, they had planned ahead and booked an area for their group. They had somewhere to sit, but they still had to weave and squeeze through the crowd to get to the bar.

By the time Skip had made it to the front, he was already bored and desperate for the strongest drink possible. He rested his elbow on the bar and leaned over to try and get one of the bartender’s attention, which was difficult, considering the amount of people that were there. He looked down the length of the bar and immediately locked eyes with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

He watched as she blushed and tucked a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear, ducking her eyes back to her drink. Skip smirked and turned his attention back to the bar.  _ This will be an easy one, _ he thought to himself. Once he finally got the bartender’s attention, he ordered himself a drink and asked the guy to send over one of whatever she was drinking. 

He watched from a distance as the bartender gave the woman her drink and chuckled as he watched her look around, obviously trying to find him in the crowd. Skip weaved his way through the crowd and slid into the small space next to the woman. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the bar and giving her his best smile. 

“Oh, uh… Hi. Um… Thanks for the drink,” she stuttered. 

The woman struggled to keep eye contact, it was cute. Skip turned his body towards her and held out a hand. “Skip Wescott.”

“Katerina Ivanov,” she replied, shaking Skip’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Skip brought Katerina’s hand up to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine,” he crooned.

As he watched the blush creep up her cheeks, Skip knew he had caught a good one. Hook, line and sinker. He stayed with Katerina all evening, completely forgetting about his colleague’s birthday, and gave her his full attention. He pretended to listen to all of her stories, laughing along at the right moments and offering little anecdotes whenever it seemed appropriate. The woman was putty in his hands. 

He politely excused himself to the bathroom at one point and when he returned, she had ordered another round of drinks, which he gladly accepted. Who would say no to a free drink? By the time he had finished that last one, he started to get a little dizzy. He was sure that he hadn’t had that much to drink; he could handle his liquor really well. 

Skip took a few deep breaths, trying to control himself, but it was no use. He could feel his knees buckling. He needed to lie down. He needed to get home. Hell, he just needed to get out of there. 

“Oh my god, are you ok, Skip?” Katerina asked, noticing the wobble in Skip’s stance. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’ve had a bit too much to drink. I think I’m gonna head home.” 

Skip turned to leave and his legs gave out. Luckily Katerina was quick and managed to grab on to him, holding him up. 

“Oh no, let me help you into a cab,” she said, wrapping Skip’s arm around her shoulders and gripping his waist tight. 

If Skip had been in his right mind, he probably would have questioned the fact that she seemed  _ really _ strong. He was pretty sure that she was basically carrying him from the bar, but his mind was swimming so much he couldn’t focus on that fact. He also didn’t think about the fact that he had left his belongings behind at his colleagues’ table. He just allowed himself to be led from the bar and straight into a waiting car.

Skip half registered that the car was a sleek black sedan - not a taxi - but he couldn’t form any words to question it and he couldn’t move his limbs properly. His head lolled to the side, looking at Katerina, who was sitting beside him. 

“Wow, Nat, that was easy. You’re out earlier than I thought you would be,” the driver said. 

_ Nat? Who’s Nat? _ Skip thought, his mind beginning to panic.

“Well, he  _ was  _ easy, Clint. All it took was a little blush and a giggle and he was all over me,” she said. 

_ What? Her name is Nat? She had planned this?  _ Skip tried to move his body, but his limbs were incredibly heavy. He couldn’t lift them at all. He tried to yell and scream, but no sound came out. 

“Ugh, this thing is so itchy,” Nat groaned. 

Skip’s eyes widened as he watched Nat pull off a wig to reveal the brightest of red hair. Panic rose in Skip as he realized exactly  _ who _ he was sitting next to. Natasha Romanoff - The Black Widow. She worked for  _ him.  _ Peter wasn’t lying. 

A little whimper bubbled from his throat, causing Nat’s head to snap towards him. She sneered when she realized that he was looking directly at her. Before he could think about anything else, her fist connected with his face, knocking him out instantly. 

When Skip came to, the first thing that he noticed was that he was tied to a barber chair. He had a raging headache, which must have come from whatever he’d been drugged with and the punch that he’d been given. As he wrenched his eyes open, he saw that he was in a dark room with no windows. The walls were questionably stained; Skip didn’t want to try and guess what kind of fluids had splattered over them, it was disgusting.

The room was dimly lit and almost completely barren, save for the very out-of-place ornate desk and chair in front of him. They looked as though they belonged in an expensive office. Well, knowing his captor, he probably had one there too; this was probably just a spare. 

Skip sat for a while, struggling against his bonds on the off-chance he could break free, but it was no use. He wasn’t going anywhere unless  _ they _ wanted him to. He had no idea how long he’d been out cold, or how long he’d been sitting here fighting. It was useless. He turned and tried to look to the only door behind him, half hoping it would open so that he could know what was going to happen. The suspense was too much.

“Hello?” he called out, hoping someone was nearby. Skip struggled against his bonds again, a little harder. “Hey! I’m up now, ok?” The chair shook as he tried to break his way out. “Come and face me like a man!”

Just then, he heard the loud metallic clunk of a deadbolt. The door squeaked open and he heard the tell-tale click clack of high heels. He couldn’t be bothered to turn around to see who was coming to him – he knew exactly who it was. He watched as Natasha walked around him and perched on the edge of the desk. She didn’t speak, just sat there giving him a bored look. 

Skip spent a few minutes just looking at her, the two of them sharing a heavy silence, before he finally decided he’d had enough. 

“Is your boss still too chicken to face me himself?” he asked, his voice slightly too smug for someone strapped to a chair. 

“You’ve still got that deluded confidence of yours. Oh, he’s going to have a lot of fun with you,” she replied with a smirk. “And to answer your question, he’s otherwise occupied. You’re not that high on his priority list, really.”

Skip snorted. “I must be, since he went through all of the trouble to bring me here. Nice place he’s got here, by the way, really should give his decorator a bonus.” 

Natasha responded by getting up off the desk, striding over and giving him a strong right hook. “Making you disappear was his priority. Now that he has you here, he’ll get to you when he gets to you. I was just sent to be your welcoming party. He thought a familiar face might be…  _ nice _ for you.”

“Should’ve sent Peter in, then,” Skip smirked, receiving another punch to the face. He smiled and spat out the blood that pooled in his mouth. Sure, it hurt, but he wasn’t gonna show them weakness this easily. “So when is His Majesty gonna grace me with his presence?”

“I don’t know. That’s down to him. Might be today, might be a week.” Natasha shrugged and made a beeline for the door. With her hand on the door handle, she called out, “Who knows?”

Skip heard the door slam shut. The bolt locking echoed through the room, leaving him alone. At first, he was pretty ok - considering that he was strapped to a chair. He started by scoping out the area and his restraints a bit better. It really was no use: there was no way of breaking out of this chair, and even if he did, there was only one exit, which was probably guarded. 

He sunk back into his seat and waited. And waited. He started humming to himself after a while, in an attempt to alleviate his boredom. They could’ve at least left him with a tv or something. Some light entertainment.  _ Something! _

As time ticked away, the humming wasn’t enough. He didn’t couldn’t tell how long he’d been there and he was definitely starting to care. He soon reached the point of boredom that decided he might as well sleep. That was sure to pass the time a lot quicker. He wasn’t comfortable, but he was definitely bored enough to be able to close his eyes and hope. 

He closed his eyes for a few moments, but as soon as he felt the blissful lure of sleep, alarms sounded. Very loud alarms. Skip jolted awake and looked around. He was still alone. He shrugged and closed his eyes again.  _ Must be a fire alarm or something. _

It wasn’t. 

Every time Skip got close to sleep, the alarm would sound. If he tried to ignore it and attempt to sleep through, the sound would just keep on going until he opened his eyes once more. He looked around as carefully as he could, but he couldn’t see any cameras. They  _ had _ to be watching him; he just couldn’t see how. After a few wake up calls, Skip realized sleep couldn’t happen. He started talking to himself in an attempt to stay awake. He became jumpy, not trusting any tiny creak in the otherwise silent room.

At some point, with no clue how long it had been, Skip started to see others in the room with him. In the back of his mind, he knew they couldn’t be real, but his sleep-deprived brain didn’t seem to care. Any company was good company. These friends kept him entertained for long enough, until his body started to give out. His eyes started to droop and he unwillingly started to fall asleep. 

Then sounded the alarm… Again!

He continued through this cycle for a few days. Once a day, someone came in to feed him, not that he was fully aware of the situation. He accepted the bland food - if you could even call it that - and ate it, probably thinking it was a gift from one of his imaginary guests. 

After day 5, as Skip started to fall asleep, saying goodnight to his ‘friends’, he felt his body slip into slumber. For the first time, he wasn’t dragged out by the alarms, and was allowed to finally sleep. His body floated away happily and he really hoped he could stay asleep forever. He didn’t want to wake up. 

When he eventually came to, Skip kept his eyes closed with a groan, begging his brain to let him go back to sleep for a little longer. When his mind wouldn’t comply, he tried to crack open his eyes, but his body just didn’t have the energy. 

As his brain began to focus more on his surroundings, he thought he could hear breathing other than his own. Panic rose through him as he wrenched his eyes open. At first, he could make out a blurred figure sitting opposite him. As his eyes came into focus, he realized who had been waiting for him. 

Quentin Beck.

The man was looking down, polishing a pair of knuckle dusters, inspecting them closely before going back in again. He paid no mind to Skip for a few minutes, caring more about the metal in his hands. The silence that stretched between them was - in Skip’s opinion - heavy. His mind just wouldn’t shut up thinking about what to do. Make a snarky comment? Say hello? Pretend to be asleep? He didn’t know. He was still so dog tired, he couldn’t focus. 

After god-knows how long, Beck placed the knuckle dusters carefully on the desk and looked up at Skip. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, linked his fingers and rested his chin on his knuckles, giving Skip his full attention. 

“Nice of you to join me, Wescott,” Quentin drawled. “Frankly, I find it incredibly rude that you’ve kept me waiting this long.”

If Skip hadn’t been so tired and drained, he would have been able to come up with some witty comeback, but his brain couldn’t process anything quick enough. 

“I assume you know why you’re here,” Quentin continued. He waited for Skip to respond, but the man just kept his eyes on the wall opposite. Quentin sat back and laughed at the man’s defiance. “No? Ok let’s start at the beginning. You’ve spent a good few months harassing Peter Parker. And despite Peter saying no every single time, you continued.”

Quentin leaned forward and picked up one of the knuckle dusters and twirled it around his finger. “Now, Peter and I have never been shy about our relationship. There isn’t a person in New York State who doesn’t know that we are together, and yet you still thought you could prey on my boy.” Quentin slipped the knuckle duster on and picked up the other. “I trust my baby explicitly, so I initially thought you were harmless. I left you alone because Peter said he could handle you.”

Quentin slipped the second knuckle duster into his pocket and stood, walking slowly around the desk. “That was, until you decided to attack my baby’s character. Make him out to be some kind of cheat. But your lies didn’t just affect Peter, did they?” Quentin came to a stop in front of Skip and gripped the man’s chin, forcing eye contact. 

Quentin’s grip was painfully strong, so strong that Skip couldn’t even attempt to open his mouth to respond. “Did you think I wouldn’t come after your slimy little ass after you made me look like a fool?” Quentin’s clenched Skip’s jaw tighter and his twisted into a sneer as the man beneath him whimpered in pain. “You fucked with my world, so now I need to make an example of you.”

Quentin let go of Skip’s jaw and stood straight, reached into his pocket and pulled out the other knuckle duster, slipping it on. He smiled down at the shivering mess in front of him before he pulled his fist back and landed the first blow. Skip’s head was flung to the side, blood splattering to the floor. “You really are a pitiful excuse for a man, aren’t you?” He landed a second blow to Skip’s face. “Going after someone else’s man.” And another. “You think you’re better than me?” Another. “You think you can give Peter more than what I can?” 

Quentin stood back and squared his shoulders. “You’re nothing,” he said, sneering at the man in the chair.

Skip was covered in blood, deep cuts and bruises littering his face. One eye was swollen shut and a few teeth were scattered across the floor. He was breathing heavily and his body was trembling, trying to contain the pain he was in. His weak body couldn’t take it like he usually could, it was already unbearable. Skip’s head shot up as he heard the door open.

“Why did I just know you’d start without me?”

Skip’s good eye widened as Peter came into view. Peter stopped in front of Quentin and pulled the man’s attention from the blubbering mess in the chair. Peter ran his hands up Quentin’s front, and the man’s furious expression immediately softened. Peter glanced towards Skip and gave him the dirtiest smirk he could muster up, before giving Quentin his innocent look. 

“Daddy, you know I love to watch,” Peter pouted. “Especially this one.”

Quentin sighed and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I’m sorry, baby, I know you want to watch. You were in the middle of your last class when he was starting to wake up.”

“That’s no excuse!” Peter whined, slapping Quentin on the arm as he took a step back. “You should have called, or sent Bucky in to get me. You know that terrifies Professor Schafer when he turns up.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Quentin hooked his fingers into Peter’s belt loops and pulled the younger man towards him. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Quentin wrapped his arms tightly around Peter’s waist, leaned down and kissed him. As soon as he heard Peter moan into the kiss, he opened his mouth and poured everything into it. He took over Peter’s mouth just how he knew his baby loved. Peter wrapped his arms around Quentin’s neck and became putty in his arms; His knees went weak; he could barely stand and needed Quentin’s strength to hold him up while he tried to keep up with the man’s advances.

They kissed like that until they heard a pained groan. They pulled apart and glared at the piece of shit who had interrupted them. Skip was shaking and they were both pretty sure he hadn’t actually meant to make that noise. Not that it mattered anyway – there were no excuses that would be acceptable enough for ruining their moment. 

“Hmm, you better get back to business,” Peter said with a nod in Skip’s direction. He walked away and took a seat in Quentin’s chair, propping his feet on the desk and getting comfortable.

Quentin gave Peter a wink and turned back to Skip with a sneer. “Now, where were we?”

The next few hours were long and arduous (for Skip), so much so that he was sure it had actually lasted days. After Peter came in, Beck went back to beating Skip to the edge of consciousness. At some point, Bucky, Steve, Clint and Nat came in to watch and join in. They each took turns with different instruments or weapons whilst some, like Bucky, preferred to go bare knuckle. 

They smashed his ankles and kneecaps, shattered his fingers, all the while laughing at his pathetic screaming and begging. Tears streamed down from his swollen eyes, leaving tracks down his bloodied face. He’d give anything for them just to end it. He pleaded with them to let him go, to kill him,  _ anything  _ but this torture. He kept trying to plead to Peter, hoping that he could be the one to call it off, but the young man just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with a satisfied grin. 

Skip apologised more than he ever thought he would. He said anything and everything that he thought might get him out of that chair. He promised to not tell anyone if they let him go. He tried and he tried but all they did was laugh and hurt him more. 

Natasha pulled out a couple of knives and tossed one to Clint. They both turned to Skip and grinned. Skip was shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear, the pain, his lack of sleep, or a mixture of all three; whilst he didn’t really want his life to end, it would be an easy way out of this current situation. 

As the two assassins stalked towards him, Skip closed his eyes and braced for the impact, but none came. Between the two of them, they cut off every shred of his clothing, leaving him naked and shaking in his chair. As soon as they all got a glance at his crotch, the group started laughing. 

“Did you really think that you could make Peter feel good with  _ that _ ?” Quentin chuckled. 

“I feel sorry for any dude who had the displeasure of meeting you,” Clint laughed.

Peter got up out of his chair and joined the group looking down at the beaten man. His face immediately twisted in disgust. “Fucking hell, even if I wasn’t with Quentin, I wouldn’t go near you. And you really thought  _ that _ was worth it?”

“It’s called delusional,  _ kotyonok _ . He's obviously had a lot of people fake it for him, right?” Natasha said, giving Peter an affectionate kiss on the cheek. 

Peter turned to Quentin, who was watching him closely, as he always did. Peter wiped a speck of blood from his face. “Are you almost done?” he asked, sidling up close to the man, pressing his  _ obviously  _ hard cock against Quentin’s thigh. He smiled as the man groaned and gripped his ass. “You know how I get when I watch you like this. I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Peter reached out and slid his hand over Quentin’s cock teasingly. “I need you, Daddy,” he whispered.

Quentin groaned and gave Peter a quick kiss. “Not much longer, baby, ok? I promise. Now, go and sit down for me.” Quentin gave Peter a pat on the ass that advised him to do as he was told, to which Peter pouted, but obliged.

Quentin held out his hand to Natasha and accepted the offered knife. He twirled the knife between his fingers as he watched the shaking heap before him. The man was muttering weak apologies like a mantra, looking down at the ground. He didn’t have the energy to hold his head up anymore; it felt heavy on his neck and just sagged, his chin resting on his chest. 

“Bucky, lift his head,” Quentin demanded. “I want to see the look in his eyes when I do this.”

Bucky nodded and walked behind the chair. He gripped Skip’s hair and yanked his head back to the headrest, holding him in place with his hands either side of the broken man’s head. Bucky knew what his boss had planned and he knew the man would want this punk to stay as still as possible. Once he was in position, Bucky gave Quentin a slight nod. 

Quentin grinned as he leaned over Skip. “Now, I know that we are here to teach you a lesson. You’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you?” he asked, nodding along as Skip struggled to confirm due to the hold on his head. “But you see, I don’t just need to teach you a lesson. I need to teach everyone in New York a lesson. They need to know what happens when someone messes with me and what’s mine.”

Quentin let the blade drag across Skip’s chest, the cold meta ghosting against his skin. Quentin chuckled as he watched the man’s body shudder, following the trail that he made. His chest was heaving, both from fear, pain, and the damaged ribs he probably recieved at some point during the beating. 

“And how do you think I can teach everyone a lesson without telling them outright that it was me?” Quentin started on the right pectoral and dragged the knife down in a straight line. Skip screamed louder than he had since he’d been strapped to that chair and started thrashing, trying to get away from the offending weapon. Quentin looked up and nodded to Bucky, who let go of Skip’s head for a moment so that Quentin could land a swift punch to the side of his head. Bucky returned his grip to Skip’s head as Quentin leaned over. “You will stay still, asshole, so that I can write my message neatly. Surely you understand the need for neat penmanship?”

Bucky loosened the grip slightly so that Skip could nod in agreement. He continued whimpering and tried to calm down his breathing as much as he could. In order to not move, he needed to relax, if that was even possible. The room was quiet as he calmed himself down, except for another whimper coming from the other side of the room. 

Peter was sitting back in Quentin’s chair. His eyes were slightly glazed and his skin was flushed. His t-shirt was pushed up, one hand on his chest, obviously playing with his nipple. The other hand was rubbing his crotch, his hips canting up to add to the pressure his hand was giving him. Quentin looked at his baby and groaned. Peter had told him that he wanted it, but he hadn’t thought he was this far gone. 

Peter stood and removed his t-shirt before he sat back down and continued touching himself. Nat, Clint, Steve and Bucky, having all been in this situation many times before, simply turned their attention away from the horny little bitch in the corner, opting to have a brief break for chit-chat. For now, 2 sets of eyes were locked onto Peter’s movements. One set, looking at what they wished they could have, and the other looking at what they knew they had, and would take advantage of very soon. Quentin growled deep when he watched Peter pop open the button of his jeans and slid his hand down his chest and into his pants.

Quentin turned back to Skip and realized that his punching bag was eyeing up Peter, and cleared his throat to gather the prick’s attention. As soon as he made the sound, Skip snapped back to reality, muttering apologies and pleas for forgiveness. 

“We can return to the regular scheduling,” he nodded to his team, who silently took their previous places. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I have to send some kind of message,” he continued, returning the blade to Skip’s chest and dragging it across. Skip couldn’t help it and screamed in pain once more. Luckily for him, the final scream seemed to seriously damage his vocal chords, his voice, croaking and cracking until he could only grunt in pain. 

“Oh, that’s much better,” Quentin muttered, “So what better way to send a message...” He moved across towards the centre of Skip’s chest, just to the right of his sternum and carved another. 

Without Skip’s screams echoing across the room, Peter’s moans were even more prominent. “Pleeeeease!”

Quentin tried to ignore Peter as best he could, continuing with his tormenting monologue and mutilation. “Than to send it on your cold…”

“Daddy, I need you,”

“…Lifeless…”

“Fuuuuuuck…”

“…Body…”

“NOW!” Peter shouted. 

Quentin dropped the knife on the floor and turned to see Peter, naked, glaring at him with  _ the look _ . It was the only look that Quentin would bow down to, the only time that his baby was in charge. Peter didn’t use this face often and it was only ever used in order to get what he wanted sexually, so Quentin didn’t really care too much. 

He turned back to Skip and admired his handiwork. The word ‘LIAR’ was dripping blood down the man’s heaving chest. Quentin gave it one last satisfied nod before he looked up at his team and dismissed them. Once the door was closed, Quentin rounded on Peter, lifting him from the chair and placing him on the desk. Peter instantly wrapped his legs around Quentin’s waist and pulled the man flush against him. 

Quentin leaned down and captured Peter’s lips, immediately giving his baby exactly what he wanted. They kissed desperately in a clash of teeth and tongue, Peter submitting completely. When Quentin pulled back, Peter whined, which quickly turned into a groan as Quentin’s lips latched onto his neck, sucking and biting his way down. Peter tightened his legs around Quentin’s waist and pulled their hips together.

“Fuck, that feels so good!” Peter moaned, grinding his hips against Quentin’s slowly. 

“You’re so needy today, baby, you want Daddy’s cock?” he asked, not pulling away from the pale throat.

“Uh huh,” Peter nodded, “you made me wait so long. Just watching you…  _ oh god, yes _ … making him cry and scream.” Quentin reached around and grabbed Peter’s ass. “Fuck! Seeing you splattered in his blood… I…  _ Fuck _ I need you now!”

Peter leaned back a little and his hands went straight for Quentin’s belt, unbuckling it frantically before opening his trousers and pulling out his cock. Quentin groaned as Peter’s hand wrapped around his cock, giving it confident strokes. He knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it. Quentin groaned and pushed his hips forward into Peter’s hand, fucking his fist.

Peter let the man chase his pleasure in his hand for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of the thick, heavy cock in his palm. Quentin had one arm around Peter’s waist, the other gripping onto the hair at the back of Peter’s head as he continued his assault on the young man’s neck. He left bites and marks all over. He liked everyone being able to see that Peter is his, and he knew Peter loved to show them off, purposely choosing his clothing based on exactly  _ where  _ his badges of honour were. 

Peter lifted his head as close to Quentin’s ear as he could. “Fuck me, Daddy.”

Quentin growled and dislodged Peter’s legs from his waist, pressing one of his hands on Peter’s chest, pushing him down to lie back. Peter complied easily, his chest heaving as he looked at how the man’s huge hand seemed to dwarf his chest. He rocked his hips towards the man, showing him exactly what he wanted and whining in desperation. Quentin grabbed a bottle of lube from his drawer and slicked up his fingers, quickly pressing one into Peter, who hissed at the sudden contact, the lube a lot cooler than his heated skin.

Quentin quickly added a second; the moan that Peter let out told him that the young man didn’t care about the pain. If anything, Peter didn’t actually  _ want _ to be stretched, he just  needed wanted Quentin’s cock inside him. Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long as Quentin pulled his fingers out, took a few moments to slick his cock up, and immediately pushed into Peter’s waiting hole. 

Peter whimpered; with the minimal prep, the burn and stretch he felt was verging on agonizing, but that didn’t matter. Whilst he knew he would be feeling it tomorrow (and maybe a few days after), he was stuffed full of the man he loved. 

Quentin held still for a few moments. Sure, Peter liked it rough, but he wasn’t a complete monster (to Peter, anyway!).

Peter, however, had other ideas. “If you don’t move, I’m gonna…” 

Peter was cut off by Quentin pulling out and slamming back in as hard as he could. If Peter wanted it like this, Quentin wouldn’t deny him. It was always whatever his baby wanted. Quentin grinned as Peter screamed in shock and pleasure before he started pounding his love’s ass exactly how he wanted it. The mostly-bare room echoed with the sounds of their frantic fucking; skin slapping, moans and whimpers.

Whilst they fucked, Skip sat watching. He knew he should, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. This was his only chance at seeing Peter like this and he was gonna take advantage of it. Sure, he wasn’t the one fucking Peter, but he could see everything; The curve of Peter’s spine as he arched, the lines of his throat as he threw his head back, and the way his voice hitched every so often. He also had the perfect view of Peter’s cock – hot, red and weeping, obviously dying for attention. If he wasn’t in so much pain, Skip knew he would be hard as a rock watching this, but his cock didn’t even twitch.

Quentin continued his punishing pace, making Peter moan and whimper like something out of a porn film. Quentin let go of one of Peter’s hips and leaned to the side, opening one of the drawers of the desk, pulling out his gun. 

“Look at him, baby boy. I know you’ll want you to watch this.”

Peter turned his head and whined. He could feel his orgasm creeping up on him, and the anticipation of what was coming just pulled it even closer. His eyes locked with Skip’s and Peter let out the dirtiest moan he could muster up; he was proving to the moron that no one could beat Quentin, and also said man hit his prostate particularly brutally at that moment. 

Peter heard the sound of the gun being cocked and the sound went straight to his dick; he was teetering on the edge and that sound was nudging him closer. He could feel the cool metal of the pistol as Quentin dragged it down his chest, letting it brush over his overly-sensitive nipples.

“God, please just do it. I’m so close, Daddy, please,” Peter begged. 

The gun left his skin and Peter looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Quentin raise the gun and point it at Skip. 

“Is this what you want, baby?”

“YES! Please, end him, blow his brains out, paint this fucking room red!” 

Quentin bared his teeth, knowing that Peter was too far gone to care anymore. He had to time it perfectly. He continued slamming into Peter’s hole and pointing the gun at Skip, surrounded by a chorus of babbled begging. Skip was begging for his life, while Peter was begging for that life to be ended. He could feel Peter’s ass starting to clench, and his back started arching off the desk, but Quentin still kept his finger still on the trigger. 

“QUENTIN, PLEASE, JUST DO IT!” Peter shouted. 

That was all Quentin needed as he pulled the trigger. As the bullet passed through Skip’s skull, Peter came, screaming Quentin’s name and painting his own chest in his cum. As Skip’s head lolled, Quentin placed the gun down by Peter’s hip and gripped Peter tightly, pulling the young man onto his cock as hard as he could, chasing his own impending orgasm. A few thrusts later, Quentin stilled, filling Peter with everything he had to offer.

When he was sure he was done, Quentin pulled out and slipped his cock back into his pants, straightening his clothes. He watched as Peter lay boneless on the desk, cum dribbling out of his ass. Quentin reached between Peter’s spread legs and scooped some of the cum up, pushing it back in. Peter didn’t move, but the moan he let out told Quentin that he was still conscious. Quentin walked around his desk and pulled a small plug from one of the drawers, coming back before Peter and pressing it in slowly. Can’t have Peter heading home with cum dribbling down his legs (even if that sounded like a good idea).

Quentin moved to sit in his chair, caressing Peter’s soft, flushed skin as he came back to earth. Eventually, Peter turned his head to face Quentin and the man smiled. “You ok, baby?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Peter breathed, his face plastered with a tired smile. 

“Ready to go home? I’ll get Bucky and Clint to deal with the mess.”

Peter nodded and allowed himself to be pulled up off the desk. Quentin dressed Peter slowly and pressed a sweet kiss to Peter’s still-swollen lips. “Thank you, Daddy,” Peter whispered against the man’s lips. 

Quentin ran his hands through Peter’s sweaty hair. “Anything for you, sweetheart, you know that.”

The next morning, Skip’s beaten and mutilated body was found tossed in an alley in Brooklyn. Whilst Police processed the dumpsite, Peter slept soundly wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms with a huge smile on his face. The message would be received loud and clear.

No one fucks with Peter Parker. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it
> 
> If you enjoyed it, take a look at my other fics, I have Starker, WinterSpider, Stucky and other pairings to come! The other parts of this series are currently WinterSpider, but there are other pairings coming there too!!
> 
> I am in a Discord Server for MCU Fics and Thirst, honestly these guys are the ones who inspire me to write and are the best cheerleaders I could ever ask for. Come say hi! https://discord.gg/6wFsB2f
> 
> I can also be found on Twitter and Tumblr under the same name. Come, wave!


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